When I last wrote about my hens, I was complaining because they didn’t seem to want to be mums. I thought perhaps they wanted a larger clutch (more eggs in the basket). I added some golf balls to encourage them to lay more…
I see they took it too far. I tried to get the egg situation sorted out on Sunday but I wasn’t able to. Rather the birdcage was occupied by a hen or other things, like my mom’s sudden fear of cocks after seeing the claws on Houdini, prevented me from being able to sort them out. Eventually I was able to do so yesterday, which involved me having to clean up some pretty shitty (literally) and gross eggs, since Feisty broke one of the eggs somehow. I want to say she tripped on the huge collection and that’s how one broke but I have this feeling she just laid an egg half in/half out of the birdcage.
So the eggs were cleaned and I put them all up to my light because I couldn’t handle the thought of destroying partially developed eggs. I ended up distributing 8 amongst three nesting boxes, one of which I know Una Jacobine enjoys sitting in and putting two with a single egg in this dumb milk crate. Whatever, Whitetail can lay her eggs there.
There were six eggs that looked developed, so unsure of what else to do, I added them to my was-supposed-to-be-full-at-18 incubator (the actual limit is 24, I think, and more with better egg-turny things). One of them turned out to be cracked once I cleaned it off so I threw the poor baby teeny-tiny chicken-embryo out (first I opened it up and showed it to my son to explain how an egg becomes a chicken). There were 8 more that looked undeveloped and I have them sitting in my kitchen ready to be thrown out. All of these numbers are hurting my brain.
I now have designated “hatching” boxes and designated “stealing the eggs” boxes. The birdcage is NOT for raising baby chickens anymore.
My flock of chickens seem to think I’m being unreasonable when I tell them they can’t have two dozen babies at once or that it would be better if they used the proper nesting boxes instead of birdcages, milk crates, and tarps. I try to enforce all of these rules a chicken farmer, yet I feel like my dear chickens are still playing me.
Here are some more cute pictures to end this post.